Wednesday 23 July 2014


Couldn't sleep a couple of nights ago

Their machines shine,
And glint darkly in the sun.
Our machines bask,
And reflect not.
Their machines are of thought,
And slip through them.
Our machines are literal,
Course, crude and slow.

Their machines skim,
Over sand and bower.
Our machines tear,
Grunt, quake and moan.
Their machines dive,
Amongst us, slicing.
Our machines roar,
Spit and explode.

Their machines are cruel,
Capricious and bright.
Our machines are dumb,
Unthinking and slow.
Their machines swarm,
Spreading and twitching.
Our machines squat,
Alone and grounded. 

Their machines leave glimmering,
Beautiful graveyards and tombs.
Our machines die slow and loud,
Glory and ruin amidst the wrecks.
Are their machines truly machines?
Are our machines anything but?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.